


All Dressed Up

by MoMoMomma



Series: Kinktober 2018 [11]
Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Eden's Gate Cult, Bets & Wagers, Crossdressing, Groping, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-11
Updated: 2018-10-11
Packaged: 2019-07-29 12:12:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16263971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoMoMomma/pseuds/MoMoMomma
Summary: Rook is never fucking taking another bet against Joey Hudson for the rest of his godforsaken life.





	All Dressed Up

Rook is never fucking taking another bet against Joey Hudson for the rest of his godforsaken life. It’s bad enough he’s the station Probie, always the first picked for coffee runs and going to talk people like Zip down from whatever ledge they’ve worked themselves onto. But he’d been so confident about this one! Kid’s shows were cutesy and fun and there _had_ to be some sort of sacred law that they went untouched by the bullshit of adulthood.

Or so he thought. 

And he is absolutely prepared to find the person who made a “sexy” _Minions_ costume and punch them in the mouth right about now. 

So he lost the bet. Because, for once in his life, he had faith in humanity and it was crushed by people being fucking weird and mass marketing that weird to the world. Which is why he’s currently sitting in his car outside the Spread Eagle, furiously texting Hudson in the hopes she will take pity on him.

The last “get your ass in here so I can see” text doesn’t give him much in the way of hope. 

Rook just barely gets the car door closed, one hand on the door and the other balled up around the edge of his skirt, vainly trying to yank it down--latex is supposed to be _tight_ , why the fuck does this thing keep riding up if he so much as _breathes_ the wrong way?--before someone sees him. Someone who lets out a low whistle, loud enough to have his head twisting almost violently, eyes bouncing around to find the source.

Jacob Seed grins at him, parked a couple feet away, rounding the hood of his stupidly big truck as he looks him up and down. 

“Well now. The Sheriff’s Department tryin’ something new? Pretty sure that’s called enticement...or entrapment. Would have to ask John to be sure.”

“I lost a bet.” Rook hisses and tells himself it’s the October air that makes him shiver and not Jacob’s rolling and slightly evil laughter.

“Now what sorta bet puts Hope County’s finest in a cheap women’s Halloween costume?”

“I don’t wanna talk about it.” Rook snaps, crosses his arms over his chest only to drop them in a second because his skirt took the opportunity to roll up without him keeping hold of it.

Stupid fucking latex uniform. The skirt alone is his nightmare--Rook had been half-tempted to say fuckit and wear boxers underneath, despite the fact that they stuck out the bottom and looked ridiculous. He’s got very short, very thin briefs on and nothing between the “shirt” portion and his chest. Which means if he gets any colder he’s going to inform everyone in the bar of how pointy his nipples can get.

And he’s not going to think about the stupid V of this ridiculous outfit. Which had him goggling in the mirror the first time he put it on and exposes literally all of his sternum. 

How do women _deal_ with this bullshit? Even for one night?

“Gotta say,” Jacob is still staring at him because he’s a _terrible_ excuse for a human being, “you pull it off pretty well. Not that, by the looks of it, it’d be particularly easy to pull off. Thought the whole point of those outfits was easy on-easy off.”

“You are an asshole.” Rook steps closer, almost mad enough to actually fight, but his irritation gets removed in an instant when a breeze makes him shudder. “For fucks--I’m going inside.”

“How long does this bet last, exactly?” Jacob’s right on his heels, boots heavy behind the tromp of Rook’s feet. “All night? All week? Or just a split second show I happened to catch part of?”

“I have to do one entire lap of the Spread Eagle.” Rook grunts, “or as long as it takes me to drink a beer.”

Jacob makes a considering sort of amused noise, something low in his throat. He’s close enough Rook can’t spin and scowl like he wants to or else risk slamming their bodies together. Jacob’s just the kind of ass who wouldn’t stop if Rook did. 

“You were Army, right? Should know how to shotgun.”

“I have been politely informed,” Rook snarls, tugging futilely yet again at his skirt, “that Mary May is not serving me anything in a can. And you can’t shotgun out of a longneck.”

“Sure you can.” 

Jacob flattens a palm against the door, keeps Rook from tugging it open. He turns then, a scowl already on his face, and jerks back when Jacob’s too close. Bright blue eyes and red beard hiding something far too amused and scars that only make him a more imposing figure. All of too close for comfort, too close for the tight pull of his skirt against his hips, and Rook finds himself holding his breath. 

“W-What?”

“Said sure you can. Shotgun a long neck, that is. Just tip it back slowly,” Jacob tips his head, so close Rook can watch his pupils expand, “and open your throat.”

Rook isn’t quite sure what sort of noise he makes. It’s almost close to a whine, like Boomer when Rook doesn’t deliver the requisite amount of pets. He watches Jacob’s eyes dip to his mouth, like he needs to drive the point home any further. It’s enough that Rook leans forward, hand pulling his skirt down and back, now, dragging the fabric tight in the hopes the pressure will make his cock behave.

For fucks sake. He knew he had a thing for Jacob Seed, the man ticked off just about every box in his mind. Rook had been perfectly content to acknowledge it and move on, assuming big, bad Jacob was as straight as they came. 

Either he was way off or Jacob’s playing gay chicken with the Deputy in a dress. Rook’s not ashamed to admit he prefers one option over the other. 

“I’ll...keep that in mind?” He offers weakly, watching as Jacob sweeps his eyes over him one last time before leaning back, hands at his sides. 

“Go on then. Probably got a crowd waiting for the show.”

A crowd indeed, given by the shouts that rise up the second Rook slips inside. And one Jacob intends to be a part of, if the way he slides into an open chair at Eli’s table is any indication. Half the damn county looks like it’s crammed inside the bar and Hudson’s front and center, phone raised with a wild grin on her face. Rook barely gets his arms over his face in time for the flash and he peeks over them with a scowl.

“Fuck off! I didn’t agree to pictures!” 

“I’ll stop snapping them soon as you fulfill your end of the bargain, Rookie!”

Rook darts towards the bar, slapping open palms on the counter in some imitation of a desperate seal. Mary May’s behind the counter--probably because her mother is a nice human being and would give Rook something to cover himself with--and she grins slow and easy as she slides a beer across the space. Rook gets it to his lips, already heading off on his way, but sputters the second it hits his tongue. 

“Mary! What the hell?”

“Oh, sorry, Rook.” She drawls, forearms on the counter and eyes tracking down his outfit. “S’it warm? Mighta pulled it out a little early. Y’know...excitement and all that.”

Rook pulls a face when he tips the beer back, stubbornly trudging on. Warm beer makes him wanna gag on the best of days, much less when he’s drinking it while he gets groped. He’s given up on holding his skirt down, feeling it ride higher and higher with every palm that grazes across his ass.

It’s not until he’s halfway through, both bottle and path, that someone _smacks_ him. He spills down his chin when he yanks the beer away from his mouth, spinning in place. Hurk grins at him, wide and easy and probably more sloshed than he should be given the way he’s leaning out of his chair.

“Sorry, ‘migo, but the goods were right there. I mean that’s like--that’s like asking a fish not to swim.”

“You’re _straight_.” Rook hisses.

“Hey, I don’t have to be inclined towards the, uh, same gender as my good self to know a good ass when I see one.”

“If anyone smacks me,” Rook announces to the crowd as he continues stomping along his way, “I will have you arrested for assaulting an officer.”

“Hoo! Arrest me, Officer!” Kim whistles from a corner, her and Nick laughing uproariously as Rook flips them off without tipping the bottle down. 

He’s nearly done, by the door, when he nears Jacob. He’s watching him, something dark in his eyes, flickering between Rook’s chest and his bare thighs and the way his throat is bobbing with every drink. There’s a moment where their eyes meet and Rook shivers, eyes drifting closed when Jacob mouths a slow and teasing “swallow” at him. 

He slams the empty bottle down on Jacob’s table, making Eli laugh, and stares him down as he drags the back of his hand over his mouth. He’s going to have to scrub his tongue with half a tube of toothpaste to get the feeling and taste out at this point. 

Warm beer. Fucking Christ, like his night wasn’t bad enough to begin with.

“Good boy,” Jacob murmurs softly, pushing back from the table. “Time to run, right, rabbit?”

The bar softens in the background, cheers and jeers warping as the blood rushes through Rook’s ears. He reaches out before he can think better of it, snatches Jacob’s ever present Army jacket off the back of his seat. Jacob’s eyes fly wide and his mouth opens, probably to protest, but Rook’s neatly side-stepping and running towards the door, pulling it on as he goes.

Fuck, it’s still warm from Jacob’s body. Smells like him too, pine and gun oil and sawdust in his nose as he pulls the front together to hide the obvious tent near the front of his skirt. 

“Happy Halloween everyone!” He calls over his shoulder, elbowing the door open and bursting out into the night air, the sound of drunken cheering and laughter spilling out behind him. 

He makes it to the back of the bar, rushing as best he can with a throb between his thighs, before Jacob catches up, fists the back of the jacket and yanks him to a stop. Rook chokes a bit, struggles to get his arms out and escape, but Jacob doesn’t allow it. 

Presses him face first into the wall, holding him there until Rook’s heart is beating too fast and adrenaline and slight fear makes his legs shake. 

Or that could be the cold. Because god knows this useless fucking outfit isn’t doing anything to protect him from the elements. 

“I--It was a joke!” He tries, wriggling in place, pushing slightly against Jacob’s hold and getting nowhere for his efforts. “I’ll give it back!”

Jacob sucks his teeth, makes another small considering noise as he crowds in tight behind him. So close Rook can feel his jeans on the back of his thighs, his breath stirring the fine hairs on the nape of his neck. Jacob brings a wave of warmth, like it’s flowing out from inside him, and Rook scratches against the wood of the building when a palm flattens out between his shoulder blades. 

“Ballsy move, Deputy, even for a joke. What--you throw a skirt on and you turn into some sort of base bunny? Grabbing jackets and making me play big bad wolf to chase you down?”

“I didn’t mean to--”

“Thinking maybe you did.” Jacob’s nose brushes the curve of his ear, in so close Rook can barely breathe. “What’s the matter, Rook? Get all worked up on your little fashion show in there? So many people grabbing and touching...and you didn’t hate it, did you?”

“I don’t--”

“Bet you don’t.” Jacob laughs. “If this was normal for you, you wouldn’t have been blushing like you were. Apple red and flushed to high heaven. But you liked it, huh? What was it, Rook? The skirt, the people watching, the touching?”

“It was just...no. It wasn’t anything. I didn’t like--”

“You can lie if you want.” It’s almost sing-song, Jacob’s accusation that goes along with the slow stroke of one finger up the back of his thigh. “But we both know that it is just a lie. C’mon, it’s just us out here. Admit it. Much as you like to bitch and moan about it...you like the outfit, don’t you? Like how it makes you feel.”

Rook can’t answer, teeth grinding together so harshly it makes his jaw ache. Jacob isn’t necessarily wrong, Rook’s always found something thrilling about it. He’s had a few lovers in the past ask it of him, holding up silky soft shirts or skirts with questions in their eyes and on their lips. He hates _this_ particular outfit, the itchiness of the fake fabric and the squeak and grip of the cheap latex, but he doesn’t...necessarily hate the idea. 

“I still think this outfit is fucking stupid.” He grunts by way of answer, Jacob huffing an amused sort of breath against his ear.

“S’cause it is. It’s cheap and overt. But you’d be just fine with something a little nicer, huh? Pretty little dress to get rucked up around your hips while someone fucks you open. Skirt short enough and loose enough someone could get their hand underneath it.” 

Jacob hums while Rook tries to remember how to breath, yelping when a hand slides forwards and cups over his cock. 

“Would be work of a moment to pick something up for you. I’d even let you wear my jacket over it.”

“Got a--got a little fetish, Jacob?”

“Not in general.” Jacob says, tracing his fingers up, callouses scraping the sensitive skin of Rook’s inner thighs as he instinctively widens his stance. “But for you? Yeah. Damn near busted my zipper when I saw you climbing out of your car in this little get-up. Imagine my disappointment when I realized you were still wearing something underneath it.”

“I had to, it was too short, I--”

“Maybe for this.” The latex squeaks when Jacob grinds a palm down against his cock, shoved up around his wrist to let him underneath. Rook is honestly, genuinely, regretting his choice of wearing briefs right about now. “But how about we go somewhere a little less crowded? You can strip down to nothing underneath and let me see how fast I can get under your skirt.”

It’s a bad idea. It’s a _very_ bad idea. Everyone saw him sprint out of the bar with Jacob on his heels, if Rook shows up tomorrow with any indication he got laid it’s gonna be an easy assumption to make. And he gets the distinct feeling, given the teeth testing the curve of his ear, Jacob likes to leave marks. 

However…

“Can I wear the jacket?” Rook asks weakly, Jacob rumbling a laugh against his shoulder.

“Sure, sweetheart. Keep it on. My jacket and this skirt and nothing else. For now.”

**Author's Note:**

> Wanna see what's coming next, be kept updated as I change around the schedule? Make sure to check [this post](http://momomomma2.tumblr.com/post/178633371556/happy-kinktober) on my Tumblr!


End file.
